Call of Duty: Modern Warfare The Lost Chapters Act 3 and Epilogue Pt 1
by Newbie52
Summary: If you want action this will have quite a bit of it. I have always tried to keep my FF in the realm of possible canon. However this and many of my following fanfictions will contradict the events in Operation Kingfish. I hope that despite that my stories can still be enjoyable. Any and all reviews are welcome. Rated M for Violence and Language


Chapter 7: Full Circle:

"Target is on the roof. he's all yours."

Our so called leaders prostituted us to the west...

"I can put one in his leg sir."

...Destroyed our culture...

"No! We can't risk it, hold your fire!

...Our economies...

Soap, take his weapon and restrain him."

...Our honor...

"Drop It!" You got nowhere to run! Drop it now!"

...Our blood has been spilled on our soil...

"NO!" BANG.

...My blood...

The son of the Zakhaev is dead before he hits the ground. A bullet fired from his own gun tearing through his skull.

...On their hands...

Soap kneels down to the ground and casts his gaze to his knees.

...They are the invaders...

_I failed_ He thought. "Baseplate this is Bravo-Six. Zakhaev's son is dead. We're comin' home."

...All U.S. and British forces will leave Russia immediately...

"I know the man... he won't let this go unanswered"

... Or suffer the consequences...

_Now everyone will pay the price... _Soap feels a hand on his shoulder and glances up to see his Captain looking down at him. "It's time to go son." Soap slowly got up.

The trek back to the gas station and diner only took fifteen minutes. To all walking, it felt like hours. They all knew Price was right. There would be retaliation. It was only a matter of time. Nobody spoke until they reached their evac point. Everybody went into the diner where, not an hour earlier, they had staged an ambush for Zakhaev's son. An unhappy Russian soldier bumped into Soap hard. "Nice work, Comrade." He didn't even see the punch coming. Soap landed a right hook that sent the man tumbling backwards into his fellow soldiers. When Soap, now angry beyond reason, went to follow, Griggs grabbed him from behind and attempted to pull him back. The Russians moved to go after Soap and Gaz got into the middle to protect his squad mate. What resulted was a shoving and shouting match between both parties. This lasted fifteen seconds before, above the crowd someone shouted "ENOUGH!" BANG BANG BANG Everyone in the diner stopped and looked to see Price standing in the doorway, his pistol pointed straight in the air, still smoking from the last three bullets fired from it. "Whats going on here?!" Kamarov, who had entered only in time to see Soap's outburst, replied in an angry tone "You need to control your men Captain Price. He attacked my comrade for no reason." Gaz shouts "Oh, that is bullshit! I heard exactly what your comrade said!" "It's true, sir." Interjected Griggs. Price glanced at Soap and turned to Kamarov. "Get your men out of here." Kamarov replied angrily "Are you not responsible for the discipline of your own me..." "He is my man Kamarov, and I will handle it. Get. Your men. Out. " As Kamarov and his men moved out of the building and across the road to the gas station, Price looked at the other three men in the room. "Gaz. Griggs. You too." "But sir..." "Now, Gaz" "Yes sir." Gaz walked out past him as did Griggs, but not before patting Soap on the shoulder and exchanging a nod with Price. Price turned and glared at Soap. Soap went to walk past Price to leave as well but Price blocked his path. Soap once again came around with his right fist, determined to take his anger at himself out on someone else. Price knew it was coming and backed up, catching the fist as it flew by and pinning it behind its owner. "Let go of me!" said Soap. Price was surprised to hear his voice but ultimately ignored it. "Your not getting out of this that easily, so sit down!" With that said he spun and threw Soap into a chair leaning against the bar and when Soap tried to rise Price put his boot on the other mans chest and pinned him to his seat. After a minute with nothing but the sounds of the two men breathing, Price spoke again. "I'm going to move my boot now. And you are going to sit still." Soap did as instructed. He was no longer angry. In fact, he looked as though he had no emotions at all. Price looked as if he was going to shout. Instead he just sighed and pulled a stool over and sat facing the newest member of his team. After a minute he spoke. "I understand." Not expecting this Soap looked up to see a calm and understanding look on his Captain's face. "I know how you feel. I know you're angry and I know you blame yourself, and if the worst comes to past and you survive, you will blame yourself for the rest of your life. You. Will. Not. Do this." Soap looked at the floor again, not believing him. Price did the same and there was silence for another minute. When Soap looked up again, it was to words he'd never thought he'd hear. "If anything, its my fault." said Price with a hint of regret in his voice. "I was sent in to kill that mans father and I failed. Had I been able to make the shot, all those men would still be alive. We wouldn't be here. None of this would have happen" Then he pulled out his pistol and looked at Soap. Then he told the man across from him something he had never told anyone else "I never told you what happened after Pripyat."

_"Brace yourself RPG on the roof!" The helicopter swerved to the side almost dumping Price and MacMillan out of the helicopter. Price lost his balance and grabbed onto the seat but lost the pistol he had been using seconds earlier to hold back the Russians as they made their escape. "Were out of danger. Good work everyone." said the pilot finally. Now that the adrenaline had worn off Price was able to think about his actions and the effects they may have. His thoughts went instantly to a negative future. "Price..." Price was brought out of his own mind by his superior. "You did well lad." Price's jaw dropped. "I failed the mission. I may have brought something worse upon us. I should leave. I'm not fit for duty. Any retaliation will be on me. I. Missed. The shot." MacMillan chuckled. "One day you will learn that not every mission goes according to plan. You can't control nature, John. Your shot was spot on. The wind changes. You do what you can do. Nothing more, nothing less. Let me tell you something. The strongest are those who can stand back up after the world pushes them down." Price nodded, though he didn't fully understand or believe his words. Changing the course of the conversation McMillan continued. "This was my last mission lad. I'm to be promoted to Directer of Special Forces." Price looks at him, wondering what he was getting to. "Here," said MacMillan taking his captains pistol from his holster. "I think you will be needing a replacement." He extended the gun to Price. Price shook his head. "That's a Captains pistol." "You are a Captain son. Take the pistol. One day, like me, you will find someone who is worthy of it. One who will give anything for what they believe in. One who you think has the chance to change the world for the better. All in the line of duty. Take it." Price took the gun. McMillan looked at him and simply said "Once you get my leg patched up again you can call me Mac."_

Price looked up at Soap who was watching and listening with peaked interest. Price continued "I still don't know if I'm worthy of this pistol. But one thing in that conversation that has always stuck with me were these words "The strongest are those who can stand back up after the world pushes them down." I understand now that on some level that rings true for all of us. I think that every man needs this trial this...failure to be worthy of the weapon that I am holding." He looked straight into Soap's eyes. "When that day comes I will be proud to pass on this pistol." As Price rose to leave, Soap spoke again. "Have you considered Gaz or Griggs?" Price thought for a moment and then replied "I don't see myself in Gaz or Griggs. For some reason I see myself in a Scottsman." He put his hand on Soap's shoulder. "It will be over soon son. One way or another."

Chapter 8: This Is It

"This is it." said Price. "We go and kill the bastard. And I need your help to do it. Gathered around the table an abandoned house near the border of Russia, Price, Gaz, Soap, Griggs, a few of Price's men and two American Snipers, contemplated the coming battle. "Kamarov doesn't think we have a chance and frankly neither do our superiors. But I say we can. We may not make it out. But we will make it in. No matter how this turns out. No matter who chooses to go or stay. Zakhaev will not live past this day. Who's joining me?" Soap instantly stood up. Gaz and Griggs both followed. The American team glanced at each other and shrugged. "Why not?" one of them said. Everybody dies eventually. Hey, if you don't mind we have a few more buddies who may want to join us." Price glanced at Soap who nodded. Price looked around the table "Lets get this done. Move out."

Chapter 9: The Passing of the Pistol

"Those tankers are gonna blow!"

Price looked behind him and just as the inevitable happened. The resulting explosions sent debris from both the vehicles and the bridge through the air. It took Price a few seconds to realize where he was and what had happened. He couldn't see Gaz. He looked slowly to his right and saw Griggs hauling an almost unconscious Soap toward cover. Price felt a sharp pain just below the rim of his hat. He put a hand to the spot and it came away with crimson blood. He looked around and saw debris and wreckage. Then he looked down and saw shrapnel sticking out of his chest. It wasn't deep, but there was a lot of blood. _pass out... blood loss... soon..._ He looked up to see a bullet rip through Griggs' skull. Price looked away in grief for a moment and tried to concentrate on not passing out. All sounds were muffled and his vision was a blur._ focus... just a little... longer..._ Through the window of the wrecked car in front of him he saw Zakhaev look down at something and shoot. Then he looked at Soap who was directly in Zakhaev's path. Price was groggy but he realized that he couldn't make the shot. He didn't have much time. He looked at Soap.

_"The strongest are those who can stand back up after the world pushes them down."_

Price saw Soap still laying on the ground, unable to move. But his eyes were open. There was still a rebellious flame in his eyes. _He's still fighting... Soap's still fighting..._

The helicopter hovering overhead blew apart, momentarily distracting Zakhaev and his two remaining men. _Now's his chance...Now it's his turn...my time is over..._ It took an enormous effort, but Price managed to free his pistol from its holster. He as he sat up to get some leverage he took one last look at Soap.

_"When that day comes I will be proud to pass on this pistol."_

He used up the last of his strength to slide the pistol over to Soap. Soap caught it, swung around and fired three times in front of him. Though Price didn't see it, he knew that they'd won. Zakhaev was dead. _Good luck... son... _

When Soap turned to look at Price he was unconscious.

Chapter 10: Rude Awakening

_"...are you still waiting for another war?"_

Price's eyes snap open to see a man over him, the words of his subconsciousness forgotten. The man above him snapped his head to the side and started speaking..._ RUSSIAN. _Price lunged up and grabbed the man above him by the throat with both hands and started squeezing. Price gritted his teeth because of a sudden pain in his chest. However, he was more worried about the man standing above him. He was to startled to notice whom he was choking. Kamarov kept on patting Price's outstretched arms unable to say a word. The medic in the helicopter tried and failed make Price let go. He shouted to the cockpit behind him in Russian. Still in his startled state, Price only saw this as calling for reinforcements and tightened his hold on Kamarov's neck. The pilot shouted something a reply in Russian and he gave the medic control of the helicopter with short instructions. Price loosened his grip a little. _That voice sounds familiar... _A man put his hand on Price's forearm and leaned into his view and spoke in English. "Price, your not thinking straight." The man pointed to himself. "Friend. Nikolai." Vaguely recognizing the Russian talking to him, Price loosened his grip enough that Kamarov could draw in short, ragged breaths. Nikolai, realizing that he was getting through, walked around to Price's other side and leaned his head to look at the man on the floor closer to the cockpit. Price saw the mans face and everything came back to him. The chase, the bridge blowing up, watching as Soap gunned down Zakhaev... and his own death. He immediately released Kamarov, who leaned backwards into one of the seats and started gasping and coughing, desperately trying to refill his lungs with air. Suddenly exhausted, Price laid back down and looked at the still unconscious Soap. After ten minutes, Price leaned up and looked down at himself. We was still clothed in his assault gear. Though when he lifted his shirt, he saw a four stitches in his chest. He also saw that his hat and cigars were absent. _Probably had to bug out quickly._ He knew he was in a helicopter but wasn't sure how he got there. He looked at Kamarov and tried to figure out some sort of an apology. Kamarov lifted up a hand. "It's okay. I deserved that for deserting you after Zakhaev's son died." Price was silent for a moment then asked "What about Gaz." There was silence. Kamarov finally spoke. "I'm sorry Price. Zakhaev killed him." Price looked away. "It's not your fault." Yet another good man was dead because of him. Price slowly rose to his feet, heading to the cockpit. Price looked over Nikolai's shoulder and saw that they were in a canyon. Mountains surrounded them. There was a small river below. "Where are we." "Seven miles from the border he replied. "We'll be away soon." Price turned and looked down at Soap. And glanced at the medic. "You speak English?" The medic nodded. Price sat back down. "Give me a sitrep." The Russian spoke English well. "Your friend in the cockpit convinced Sergeant. Kamarov to come along for an evac mission. He made it clear that we were going to be missing a helicopter either way. When we got to the bridge you were unconscious and your friend was fading fast. I managed to get your heart going but I had to stitch up your head and take out the shrapnel. Luckily, your vest stopped most of it. Your friend requires more work but we need to get to our safe house. It has the equipment he needs. After that he'll be fine." Price nodded again and looked around the helicopter. It was empty except for the five of them. "Where are the rest of your men Kamarov?" Kamarov answered "We needed room to work. The rest are in the second chopper." Suddenly a shockwave rocked the helicopter.

Chapter 11: One Way Out

"Chopper two is down!" Shouted Nikolai in Russian. The medic started to translate, but Price cut him off. "Yeah, yeah, I get the picture. Nikolai, we have any reinforcements?" "Reinforcements at the border." Nikolai said back in English. Suddenly two choppers swooped in behind theirs. They straightened out and and maintained the same speed, staying an average of fifty feet behind their prey. Suddenly, a voice came from one of the pursuing choppers. The voice was speaking English. It was hard to hear over the sounds of the helicopters but it was easy to piece together. "...took off with two S.A.S. officers...Give up insurgents...Let you live...We will open fire...Five minutes to comply. Price asked Nikolai "Can you out fly them?" Nikolai shook his head. "No room in canyon." He now understood the hopelessness of the situation. He looked at Price with sorrow in his eyes. Price looked at Soap and the pistol still clutched in his grasp. Then he looked at Kamarov. "I need a weapon and a grenade." Makarov complied and handed Price an AK-47 and one grenade. "The gun only has one clip. You won't survive for long." Price, still looking at Soap, answered "I'm not planning on surviving." Nikolai looked back at Price, his eyes wide. "My friend, you can't." Price looked into the eyes of a man he now could call friend. "I'm doing this for him." he said nodding in Soap's direction. "He needs to survive. My time is over. If I have to die for him to live, then so be it. Soap has a chance to be something greater. No matter what happens next. He. Will. Live." Nikolai looked away and started to fiddle with his belt. He produced an M1911 pistol and a knife. He turned and offered them to Price. "Give them hell my friend." Price took the gun. "Thank you." He looked past Nikolai at the mountains on either side. "Take us a little higher." Nikolai complied. The helicopter rose above the cliff on the right side. The other two helicopters followed. However, they lost about ten feet of ground because of the maneuver. Up ahead, Price spotted his drop point. "Look there." he said pointing ahead of them. "You see where the cliff ends? There's about a three and a half foot drop. I could use that as cover to hold them off. Lower the ramp." Nikolai did so with tears in his eyes. Price looked down at Soap one last time. "Good luck son. You're ready." With that he walked to the ramp. He looked at Makarov. "Kick me out. Were close enough to the ground. I won't die. It has to look real." Kamarov just stared at him. Price shook his head. "Come on, you owe me a kick." Kamarov looked at Soap. "He's gonna kill me." He quickly turned around and kicked Price in the chest.

Chapter 12: The Last Stand

"Pull off." Said the Russian commander of the pursuing helicopters in Russian. "Land forty-five yards from the insurgent." He wasn't interested in taking any chances with his own life. Then he took the com. "Chopper two, land and unload your troops. Await my orders." The man nodded to his second in command and headed toward the ramp of the chopper. The Russian was dressed in standard Russian military armor. On his belt was a knife and a Desert Eagle. In his hands was an AK-47 with a Red Dot Sight attached. His face was covered by a ski mask. They both headed toward the ramp. With the helicopters unloaded all except for the pilot of the second chopper, their numbers were twenty-five plus the Commander of the group and the masked man. They could see their prey about one-hundred and thirty-four feet from them. Struggling to rise, before collapsing to the ground. Pointing at five of his men, the Commander ordered them to obtain the man alive unless he put up a fight. He was hesitant to give the man the satisfaction of a quick death. He looked at another three men. "You three, back them up."

Price landed hard. Although he wasn't hurt, he had the wind knocked out of him. There was pain on his chest, suggesting that his stitches had torn from the impact. Price gathered himself, attempted to stand, then thought better of it. He took the few seconds he had to evaluate his current situation. _AK-47: 30 rounds._ He knew they would try to take him alive at first. So he stayed on the ground, cradling his weapon. When he could hear the individual footsteps coming toward him he estimated that there were at least five men. After three seconds, he quickly rolled over, simultaneously shooting his weapon. From left to right the five unsuspecting soldiers fell to the ground, each with two bullets in the chest. Price immediately got up and ran for the three and a half foot drop that would provide stone cover. As bullets riddled the ground at his feet from three more soldiers, he leaped over the edge and landed on his knees, then scurried backwards so that his back was against the rock wall that he had chosen as cover. He turned himself around and peeked over the edge for two seconds before ducking back down to avoid more bullets. As his enemies started to reload he quickly went over what he'd seen in his head. _Ok. Three men coming at me. Twenty more men with guns and two more behind them. Probably the leaders. All carrying automatics accept for the furthest one back. Some sort of handgun. Ten shots fired. Twenty rounds left_. Price processed all of this in about two seconds. Then he peeked out and shot the two men closest to him in the chest three times each, then ducked back down to avoid fire from the third.

Seeing the first two men go down, the Commander turned to his troops. "This man is armed and has now lost the element of surprise. You six charge his position and kill him." The masked man shifted uneasily. The Commander chose to ignore it and returned his gaze to the battle.

Price moved a few feet the left to change his position then peeked out and took out the third man who took two shots to the chest and one to the head. He then ducked back into cover. _Three men down. Nineteen men left. Nine shots fired. Eleven rounds left_. When he peeked out of cover again, he saw six more men coming at him. At their pace that they would reach him in less then six seconds, he opened fire on the group. He took two out three of the oncoming men with two shots each. As the bullets tore through their chests, The other three started to open fire. Price wasn't concerned. It was hard for automatic rifles to be accurate while moving. He picked off two more without any trouble. Two shots. Two kills. The third got close and took a non fatal shot to the right hip. The man fell to the ground and pointed his gun at Price. Price, not missing a beat, dropped his rifle and grabbed his pistol out of its holster, shooting the fallen man in the head before he could get a shot off.

The Commander had taken a pair of binoculars from the masked man. He saw his foes AK-47 drop to the ground, apparently empty. Then he saw a handgun go off. Getting a clear view of the handgun as the soldier ducked back into cover, he summarized that the weapon was an M1911. This time he turned to the second helicopter. "Bring out the RPG."

_AK-47 useless. M1911 pistol six rounds left. What do I have to deal with now?_ When he looked out of cover, he saw a man striding out of a helicopter, loading an RPG. Price instinctively ducked down. He rolled his eyes. _Cheating bastards._ He swung around and took three shots at the man with the RPG. An impossible shot for some, but not for him. All three shots hit the target. Three bullets in the right shoulder turned the man around. His finger was already on the trigger. The shot went off course and into the other helicopter. Destroying it. All those around the blast were knocked off their feet, but were left essentially unharmed.

As the Commander rose to his feet he looked at the wounded pilot. Then he shot him in the head. The masked man turned around and saw his Commanders smoking gun. Disgusted at the waste of lives the masked man turned away and started helping his fellow soldiers to their feet. The Commander shot his weapon twice in the air and everyone froze. "This man has three rounds left. He can't withstand another assault. Six of you will charge his position. Five meter spread." The masked man went to move with them. "No." Said the Commander. You will stay with me." He pointed at his remaining three men and the pilot from the other helicopter. "You four, stay here as well. If he gets by I want him alive. If he lives, he will pay slowly for killing Zakhaev."

Price looked out from cover once more and cursed under his breath. _Six more coming. Four running diagonally from the right. Five meters spread between each man One more a little farther back. And one to the far left. He's gonna be a problem. Three rounds left. I can't do all of this with guns_. He picked up his grenade. _Here goes nothing._ Price waited three seconds for the men to get closer and threw the grenade straight up into the air and crouched back down with his hands over his ears. The grenade went off, exploding in the air with a loud bang, disorienting all the men close to Price and muffling sound for everyone. Price leaped out of cover and shot the closet man in the head and shot twice in the direction of the furthest man on the left, the sounds of the bullets still muffled. The man died with the first bullet entering his left rib cage and the second going through his skull. Still running, Price grabbed his knife with his left hand and charged the remaining men. _If I'm fast enough they won't even have time to use their weapons._ He came upon the first man before he recovered. And swung his knife horizontally, slashing the mans neck as sound finally came back into focus. The second man was bringing just raising his gun. Price moved quickly, tugging the gun aside with his right hand while stabbing the mans exposed stomach twice with the right. Price let go of the mans gun just in time to duck under the rifle of the third man. Price stabbed the mans knee, before flipping the knife and stabbing upward through the mans head. He saw the final man running toward him, ready to swing his rifle like a club. Price slid under the swinging rifle and stabbed behind him from behind, his knife making contact just above the waist. Price rolled over and stabbed the fallen man twice in the back. He reached forward for the mans fallen rifle but snapped his hand back when bullets hit the ground around it. He looked behind him toward the four remaining men and their commanding officer. The man furthest back had shot at the rifle, as evidenced by his still smoking handgun. Price, knowing he was dead anyway, abandoned the rifle and charged straight toward his doom.

The masked man shoved the two men in front of him and raised his rifle, ready to end the brave soldiers life quickly. "Alive." said his Commander. The masked man shook his head, then adjusted his grip on his weapon. The Commander waved off the two soldiers behind him and let the masked man have more room. He looked at the masked man with curiosity. This wasn't the first time in recent weeks that his friend had shown hesitancy to his orders.

Price saw the man change positions, but didn't care. He reached the masked man and stabbed downward. His arm knife arm was knocked aside by the vertically positioned rifle. When Price raised his knife again it was knocked out of his hand by the butt of the rifle. The masked man then lunged the butt of the rifle at Price's face. Price stepped back once and caught the rifle, and shoved it back into its owner. The masked man, seeing that they were at a stalemate, jumped off the ground and kicked Price in the chest with both feet. Both men fell to the ground, the rifle dropping in the middle. Price grabbed his fallen knife and rose to his feet as did his foe. He went to use the knife again but had to step back to dodge a spin kick aimed at his side. Price lunged with the knife only to have the arm blocked upward by the masked mans hands and arms, formed into a tight X. He then moved to Price's left side and tugged the mans arm down with his left hand, and elbowed Price in the face twice with his right, causing him to drop the knife. The masked man attempted to follow up with a right jab. Price blocked it aside with his left hand. Then he punched the masked man as hard has he could with his right fist. The masked man stepped backwards after the blow. The Commander had been watching in silence along with the rest of his men. He nodded and the two men on his right began to flank Price. When Price tackled the masked man to the ground, the two men grabbed him before he could do more damage. Price wasn't done yet. He managed to find his footing and get his left arm loose, elbowing the man holding him on the left in the face and then swinging his fist around to break the nose of the man on the right. The two men behind the masked man moved in. One came straight at Price with a fist, not wanting to hit any of his comrades with a rifle. The other flanked right. Price blocked the mans punch sent an uppercut into the mans throat, shattering his wind pipe. The man collapsed to the ground dying. Price then kicked to the right at the man trying to flank him, his foot colliding with the mans gut. The man who Price elbowed recovered and wrapped his left forearm around Price's neck attempting to restrain him. Price dropped to the ground. Not expecting the tactic, the mans grip faltered. Price grabbed the knife from the mans belt and stabbed him once in the left rib cage, and elbowed him once again in the face with his right elbow before turning around and stabbing him twice in the sternum. He went to grab the mans side arm when saw the butt of a rifle coming in fast out of his peripheral vision. Price didn't have time to react and was hit hard in the side of the face by the masked mans rifle. The second Price hit the ground the two remaining soldiers moved in and began brutally beating Price.

Chapter 13: The Art of Warfare

"Enough." said the Commander. The men immediately stopped and backed off. Price looked as if he was going to rise again but, with no strength left and the beating he took, he could only sit on his knees and look up at what was left of the enemy. The Commander walked into Price's view. The man looked straight into Price's eyes. "Where is the other S.A.S. Officer?" he asked in English. "Dead." replied Price. "He died on the chopper." "Do you know who I am." asked the Commander. Price answered "One of Zakhaev's second rate lackeys." Then he glanced at the masked man. "Maybe third rate." Nobody moved to hit him. Price was surprised but uncaring. He wasn't expecting to live much longer anyway. The Commander continued "Good, I wouldn't want my identity compromised. It would ruin the results of many years work." Price countered. "It's over. Zakhaev is dead and we won. The voice of the Ultranationalists is silenced. Go home. Let the world shape itself. Or better yet, give my knife and I'll shape it a little on my own." Smiling the Commander shook his head. "I landed on this rock with twenty six men. There are only three left. Could a voice do that?" The Commander shook his head again and looked at Price. "What do I call you?" "Captain Price, until we're done here." The Commander nodded. "My name is Vladmir Makarov. To the world I don't exist. To the media I don't exist. To every intelligence agency out there I am dead. And do not exist. As of today I am the leader of the Ultranationalists. Soon my countries salvation will be at hand. We will overthrow the government." Price was unimpressed. He spoke again "The more things change, the more they stay the same. What if you're not satisfied with your new leader eh? What if he doesn't bring your _glorious salvation_? There's no winning a war, there's just act ending one." Makarov smiled admiringly. "A soldier who can think and act. Impressive. I have thought about these words for a long time. If the new leader does not grant us our deserved salvation, I will instigate it myself." Price shook his head. "You tried that already. What's going to stop the United Nations from getting to you. Or your own government? Or the United States?" Makarov turned away and started pacing. "Captain Price, all warfare is based on deception. This nuclear crisis is just the beginning. It was also a distraction. While the world leaders and their forces had all their eyes on their televisions, we were looking to the future. There will be an American satellite taking off in ten hours time. Our men are staging a sabotage. It will fail of course. But beacons will be placed on the device. We will know all of its strengths and weaknesses. Th ACS Module on board is meant for defense. If needed I can shoot it out of the sky at any time and claim it for myself. Once hacked we will be able to mask Russian forces as our own. We will be upon them in mere hours." He looked up at the sky and sighed, as if relishing in his own genius. Then he continued. "For years, the West's hypocrisy has made the world a battlefield." Price interrupted once again, his voice growing louder, despite his exhaustion. "This all started because of a bullet fired from your leaders gun. The Americans only moved in after the fact. If you had waited, perhaps our leaders could have come to an agreement." Makarov raised his voice even louder than Price's "The corrupt talk, while our bothers and sons spill their own blood." Price shouted "Your men set off the nuke! You killed your own men!" Makarov raised his voice again. "We set off the nuke as retaliation, not aggression. We were invaded!" Makarov took a moment to collect himself. "But deceit cuts both ways. The bigger the lie, the more likely people will believe it. If forced, I will orchestrate a spark for war. Something that will point directly to the Americans. I will bring about truth with a great lie. And when a nation cries for vengeance, the lie spreads like wildfire. The fire builds, devouring everything in its path. Our enemies believe that they alone dictate the course of history... And all it takes is the will of a single man." Price looked down. "Is there a point to this speech? If you're going to kill me then get on with it." Makarov looked down at the man. "I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to put you somewhere isolated where you can watch. Watch as we reach our salvation and you are left alone in the dark. And if you get out, nobody whose opinion matters is going to help you. You will be alone." Makarov turned to the masked man. "Knock him out and get him on the chopper. If he moves, knock him out again. Though I wouldn't expect much more from him." As he turned and walked toward the helicopter, Price spoke up again. "You said yourself that all change needs is the will of a single man. You may find that this backfires later." Makarov took one last look at Price. "Don't count on it." He nodded to the masked man, who moved behind Price. Price sighed and then saw nothing but black. The masked man picked Price from the ground and swung him over his shoulder, following his superior and his two remaining comrades who were already starting up the chopper. Unbeknownst to Makarov, the two men behind him, his comrade and friend. And his fallen enemy, would lead to his eventual downfall.


End file.
